


Chinese or Indian?

by stormonmyskin



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, James opens up a bit, Lewis Summer Challenge 2017, Mentions of Suicide, as it were, happy angst, minor character death (OMC), takeaway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 05:33:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11914251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormonmyskin/pseuds/stormonmyskin
Summary: “You gonna tell me what’s bothering you about this one?”





	Chinese or Indian?

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that the title refers to takeaway options.

It was just an ordinary murder scene which actually turned out to be a suicide – except for the strange glint in his Sergeant’s eyes that Robbie couldn’t help noticing.

He watched James gaze down at the body of a young woman – early thirties. Her daughter had been stillborn. She hadn’t been able to handle the grief. An empty bottle of paracetamol and a bottle of whiskey were found in the kitchen bin after Lewis and Hathaway had turned up. But he didn’t like the look in James’ eyes.

“Come with me, sergeant,” he said softly as they made to leave. Nothing to investigate here. Cause of death, motive – a suicide note in her pocket – all wrapped up in one room. He deposited his sergeant in the passenger seat, and drove to the nearest park, steering him towards a quiet bench and sitting him down. They sat in peaceful silence for a while, before he finally spoke.

“You gonna tell me what’s bothering you about this one?” he asked.

James gave a sigh. “There’s something I’ve never told you,” he said quietly.

“I imagine there are lots of things, James. But go on.”

“You don’t know much about my past, yeah. But I assume you realise I don’t have…the nicest past.”

“I’ve imagined a hundred different pasts for you,” Robbie said gently. “In each one, I think we’re lucky you turned out how you did.”

“I nearly didn’t, though,” James said, so quietly Robbie had to strain to hear him. There was a pause as James searched for the right words. “When I was nineteen years old I swallowed a bottle of painkillers and drank half a bottle of whiskey and closed my eyes for what I hoped would be the last time.” He spoke barely above a whisper, but Lewis heard every word. “I woke up in hospital two days later. I was found in time.”

Robbie knew he didn’t want sympathy or pity, knew James was only telling him this because he felt he didn’t really have a choice. He hated himself for putting James in that position but…he had to ask, because it was obvious his sergeant was struggling, and because it was Lewis’s duty to protect his subordinate officer, and Robbie’s duty to look after his friend. He suspected James wouldn’t be relieved to get it off his chest like someone else might be, but he also suspected he would be glad to not be alone that night.

A few minutes had passed whilst Robbie was having all those thoughts, and when he blinked back out of his own head, James was watching him surreptitiously. “What are you thinking, sir?” he asked, and there was an edge to his voice which told Robbie that he was expecting to be rejected, for god knows what reason.

Robbie looked across at him. “Do you have anywhere to be tonight?” he asked. The man sat next to him, body taut with tension, shook his head mutely. “Right,” Robbie said. “Well, now you do.”

James blinked owlishly at him. “Sir?”

“Chinese or Indian?” Lewis said in reply. James visibly blanched.

“Sir, I – you don’t have to – out of pity…” he trailed off, looking away.

“I know,” Robbie said lightly, affably. “Not in the habit of offering to do things I don’t want to, lad, especially not out of pity.” He searched desperately for the right words to stop his sergeant from closing off on him. He sighed, and laid a friendly hand on James’ arm. “You’ve had a hard day, lad,” he said. “And I know I don’t like going home to an empty house after a hard day.” He hesitated. “If you really don’t want to, I’ll not make you.” James wasn’t saying anything and wasn’t looking at him and doubt began to kick in. He pulled his hand back and shifted away a little. “Of course, I don’t know why I thought you’d want to hang out with an old codger like me,” he said, his voice dropping.

James’ head whipped round. “No, sir, I-” He swallowed, and sighed. “I didn’t…I don’t want to be a burden, I don’t…” He trailed off. Robbie was right. He’d found seeing that poor woman harder than he’d expected, and the thought of spending the evening with takeaway, beer and good company was a hundred times more appealing than the thought of going home to his cold, empty flat.

“Indian takeaway, I think, sir,” he said eventually, hoping Robbie would take it as the peace offering – and the glad acceptance – that it was.

Robbie smiled a little. “Sounds like an excellent choice, lad.” He looked carefully at his sergeant, and saw a slight relaxation of the tension in his jaw. He swallowed. “Thank you for telling me,” he said casually. “I know it can’t have been easy. If I can help, in any way…don’t hesitate to ask, alright?”

James was already shaking his head. “Sir, you don’t-”

Robbie rolled his eyes. “I _know_ , James. But you’re me _friend_. You’re me friend, an’ I want to help you if I can, an’ that’s all there is to it.”

A pink tinge seeped into James’ cheeks. “Well, thank you, sir.”

“Robbie.” Robbie rolled his eyes again.

“Robbie.”


End file.
